A Proper Castithan Marriage
by Steffauri516
Summary: Alak and Christie are now married, but not all that glitters is gold. Born into warring families with completely different views, how will the two of them manage to assimilate to one another's new lives and clashing cultures? A series of oneshots chronicling the early days of Alak and Christie's marriage. *Special announcement inside! You're all gonna like this! :)*
1. 1 - The Wedding

Been watching the Syfy series Defiance for a little while now, and I have to say, it's pretty cool! My favorite characters are definitely the Tarrs, and Christie is just so sweet, I think the pairing between her and Alak is an interesting dynamic, and seeing as they're soon to be married in the show, I've had all these ideas about what their early days as a married couple would be like. I mean thus far, we've seen how vastly different Castithan and Human expectations and lifestyles are like, so, I'm here to have a little fun with the culture clash! Also, I put this in the description, but this is indeeda series of oneshots. Every other chapter will alternate between Alak and Christie. :)

A PROPER CASTITHAN MARRIAGE

_Chapter 1 –––– The Wedding (A&C)_

The sixteen-year-old tried not to writhe about. She was used to running around freely in old bluejeans, sneakers and loose-fitting tee shirts, today, all of that had been cast aside for a much more formal [and expensive] alternative.

Christie McCawley stood atop a dressing stool, teetering on a pair of too-high heels. From below, her soon-to-be mother inlaw directed the many attendants bustling about the room, and ruthlessly laying into the young seamstress polishing off the ornate silver embroidery on the gown's white satin trim. "There! Would you be so good as to take a look, Madame?" The Castithan seamstress asked Mrs. Tarr, who knelt down and examined the handiwork with intense scrutiny, finally nodding in approval. "Yes, _quite_ fine. Thank you, Elia." She simpered. She extended a soft white hand to Christe and helped her down from the stool, flanking her over to a tall mirror. A smile curled over the young girl's face almost effortlessly as she caught full sight of herself in the glimmering gown. "Thank you." She breathed, adjusting the long, floor-sweeping sleeves. tears threatening.

Stama gently moothed Christie's thick dark hair, the parts of it that weren't already adorned with beads and silk flowers. "Mrs. Tarr, I..." Stama shook her head, placing her hands on Christie's shoulders. "I am not Mrs. Tarr anymore, my dear. It is appropriate to call me familiarly, now. You may call me Stahma, or...mother." She offered sweetly, Christie's smile faultered. "Thank you, Stahma." She chose feverishly. From behind the distracted bride, Stahma tried to mask her burgeoning frustration. She brushed it off quickly, painting another fake smile. "Well then, there is someone who wishes to see you!" She leered, gesturing at her two attendants to open the doors. Christie lifted her skirts and walked to the door, only able to make out a distorted shadow from beyond the white barriers. As both doors slid open in unison, she couldn't help but gasp at the sight of Rafe McCawley, her father, standing stoically at the threshhold of the room. 

On the opposite side of the Tarr's lavish home, Alak had long since been dressed and ready for the ceremony. To juxtapose his bride's decidedly Castithan gown, he took to a fancy silk tuxedo; white, of course. The nervous young man fought off his own attendants as he fussed with his silvery blue locks in the mirror, for once, unable to settle on a style. His father sat on the bed, shaking his head. "In all my years on this planet, I've never seen such a mess. I mean who _rents_ clothing? Honestly!" He puzzled about his son's tuxedo. "And yet it's unseamly for a lady to do the same? Ten thousand Script, your wife's dress cost me! And _that_ we can't return!" He seethed, cross-armed where he sat. "Mom pushed her to get that one!" Alak joked. "It's a tradition here with brides, to wear their mothers' old dresses, but...you know." He shrugged, emerging from his crouched position in front of the mirror. Datak huffed. "The woman's dead, they didn't bury the dress with her!" Alak rolled his eyes and smirked. Not even his father's cruel skepticism could dampen his spirits today. "Well, at least it looks good on her, right?" Datak shrugged, his son replied with the same motion. "And just what's that mean?" He asked, Alak chuckled. "Don't tell me, another _human_ tradition?" Datak snarled. "Yeah, well, sort of. They say it's bad luck for a groom to see his bride before the wedding, so, I _hope_ it looks good! Well anything'll look good on her." Alak blushed. Datak nodded and glanced away. He was an accomplice of his wife's devious plot to seize the McCawley Mines, but there was a lingering twinge of guilt in him. Yes, guilt in the heart of _THE _Datak Tarr. When he had first discovered his son's affinity for Rafe's daughter, he dismissed it as a passing bout of teenage puppy love, but now, the things he was hearing one-on-one with Alak were genuine. Regardless, family honor and the quest for status must prevail at all costs, and that was something which both he and Stahma vehemently agreed.

At last, Alak settled on a look, not much different from what he normally sported, though more tamed and pristine. Arms outstretched he tossed the comb aside for a nearby attendant to scoop up and turned to his father. "Well?" He simpered. Datak nodded, a narrow smirk slowly unfurling into a smile, or at least into something as _close_ as they'd get to a smile from him. "Seshaizh'ne." Handsome, he prided, slowly pushing himself up from the bed. He approached Alak and pulled him into a brief embrace. "I have reservations, about this wedding." He started, Alak rolled his eyes and backed away. "Dad, why do you..." Datak rasied a hand and silenced him, gesturing for him to have a seat next to him. "I know, it's too late for all this. I _approve_ of this wedding, it's your youth and inexperience that worries me, my dear. You and Christie, you are both so young. Regardless of what your mother might say, I want you to embrace this responsibility. You are first and foremost, a Castithan, Alak. Christie _must_ be made aware of her place here, and that your duty is to continue the family line." Alak inhaled and scooted away. "Christie may be a human, but you are her husband, it's your job to guide her and keep her on the right path...what I have been doing for you behind the scenes all this time, you must now do for her." Alak nodded, while his time among the humans had led him to personally believe the Castithan patriarchy was utter shtako, he still had a duty to respect the traditions of his people, and the wishes of his parents.

"Alak, today you start a new life, become the head of your own household, become a fair and guiding husband, and affectionate father to my grandchildren. The Tarr legacy pushes forward today." Datak forced a smile and patted Alak's shoulders, seeing in his eyes that he had indeed placed yet another burden on his shoulders.

Back in Stahma's dressing quarters, Rafe McCawley stood at the threshhold of the double doors, an elegant bouquet clasped tightly in one hand, and an old wooden box in the other. The gruff man stepped inside the pure pearl-white room, failing to fight off the urge to make faces at the respendent atmosphere. "Humph, a lot more grandeur in a hai..._house_ like this." Rafe muttered. "Dad?" Christie breathed, looking on at her father for some sign of his intentions. "Will you be..." "Yeah, of course I'm coming. You think I'd really miss my only little girl's wedding day?" Rafe smiled, softening his gruff features. Stahma rubbed Christie's bare shoulders. "I'll just give the too of you some privacy, you can let Elia or Nohne know if you would like anything." She whispered before gliding from the room in a wave of white satin and opalescent beads. Of course, she'd still be listening on the opposite side of the closed doors.

"Dad, I thought for sure you wouldn't come. I mean, from what Quentin said..." Christie paused, Rafe proffered a bright bouquet of flowers wrapped neatly in a white velvet ribbon. He smiled kindly and sat the worn little box on a nearby night table. "Thank you! They're beautiful, daddy." Christine beamed, burying her face in the plumes, taking in their mixture of scents. Momentarily distracted by the gift, she failed to notice the box on the table until her father gently lifted the lid and withdrew a flowing white veil of beaded tulle. "Dad..." Christie's voice broke as she felt the burning sensation of tears overcome her. "She would be proud of you today, my girl." Rafe said cooly, pinning the veil to his daughter's ornate updo. "As am I." He finished with a smile, burly hands weighing down heavily on her slender shoulders. "Quentin is waiting with the rest of the family, and Luke..." Christie exhaled deeply, trying not to think of what her eldest brother would actually think, had he been here to witness her marriage to a Castithan. "...He was a good brother. He'd of wanted you to be happy, no matter what." Rafe bit his lip, the tears falling now an indistinguishable mixture of joy and sadness. Christie turned wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head to his chest. He cleaned up nicely, but the lingering scent of industrial smog and damp earth hung heavy in his aura, familiar scents in which she took gteat comfort. "That's what we all want, for you to be happy." He whispered, gently lifting Christie from his embrace. "And, if that means wedding the likes of Alak Tarr, then, we'll just have to learn to like it!" Rafe chuckled, bringing a smile to his daughter's face. "Come on now! Let's get this show on the road!" Rafe smiled, holding out an arm for Christie, who linked herself to it tightly. Abruptly, the doors opened again, Stahma in tow. "Come, come! The guests are waiting, and Madame Mayor has just arrived!" The jovial woman flanked the two down the stairs and out to the courtyard gardens. "I love you, dad." Christie mustered, briefly resting her head on his arm as they paused at the fluttering white curtain. Just beyond that nearly transparent bolt of cloth, lay her new life, and her new family. Just beyond the rift, was her tangible future.

In a muffled but stately tone, she heard Mayor Amanda announce her. The scooting in of chairs and the ethereal, haunting chants of Castithan guests and overseers undulated through the Spring air. The curtain lifted in a fade of bright light, and Rafe propelled them forward. Eyes half open, Christie floated on waves of silk and embroidered crinoline towards Alak, who was grinning from ear to ear, looking just as smitten as the day they'd first met. Rafe bobbed his head slightly and whispered to his daughter, _"One day, you will both look back on this as the day your lives began." _And with that he released her, as Christie loosened her grip on her father's arm and took Stahma's hand in her left, and Datak's in her right, she didn't look back as they flanked her to her husband. Christie McCawley emerged Christie Tarr, and faced the dream of the future with an open mind, and a newfound confidence in her father's love.

(✿ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ First chapter down! Sorry if it was a little short, but I have quite a few ideas going for this story! On Tumblr, I saw some spoiler screenshots of Chrisite and Alak's wedding! So I drew a lot of inspiration from what little I was able to find, I REALLY hope the episode comes soon! 3

Will update again soon, feedback is much appreciated!

_NEXT TIME_

Christie gets some reluctant one-on-one time with her new mother inlaw, and a crash course on life as a proper Castithan lady.


	2. 2 - Like A Doll

Hey all! Thanks for all the faves and follows for the first chapter! :) Back for more, gonna try to knock a lot of this one out in between shifts. I'm pretty unreasonably excited about this chapter, ever since Stahma and Christie's talk at the coffee shop, I've been intersted in their budding relationship. And seeing as Datak is head of the Tarr house, and he's stated that he's worried about whether or not she'll make a good Castithan wife. So! Here we are, this will primarily be a Christie-centered chapter, and also an opportunity to explore the lavish life of the Shanje Liro. Enjoy! Again, feedback is most helpful! 3

A PROPER CASTITHAN MARRIAGE

_Chapter 2 –––– Like a Doll (C)_

It was early, just barely after dawn when the new Mrs. Christie Tarr opened her eyes. Laying nestled in a cocoon of every blanket on the large bed, she smiled an sighed deeply. Loosening the enveloping blankets just enough to free one arm, she rolled over to one of the night tables and flicked the tiny, streamline radio on. It was nearly six, Alak's radio show would be airing any minute, now. As the digital numbers on the face of the radio hit six, the silence on the receiving end fizzled into loud static, then the tapping of a microphone could be heard. Christie smiled and sank back into the mountain of pillows behind her. "Gooood morning, Defiance! This is Mr. Alak Tarr with Raider Radio, broadcasting from the top of the arch! I bet you're wondering why I say, _"Mister" _Alak Tarr, well, for everybody who doesn't know, I'm a happily married guy as of yesterday! This one goes out to the lovely Mrs. Christie Tarr to start her day off right, good morning, wife!" He said cheerfully, the scratch of a record needle taking the place of his voice. As an upbeat song began to echo through the large room, there was a sudden knock on the door. Startled, Christie quickly turned down the volume on the blasting radio and adjusted her messy hair. "C-come in!" Before she could even grant that permission, a trio of Castithan attendants, the same ones who had assissted her before the wedding swept through the doors, floating on waves of nearly translucent white fabric. "Lady Christie." The woman who, Christie assumed was the senior maid, greeted with a graceful wave of her wrist. Christie had learned this greeting, and reached out to rub her arm across the maid's. She jumped back at the touch, looking completely shaken. Christie looked on, confused. She'd seen her new family greet countless people in this manner, what had she done wrong? "Mistress." The maid began. "You are...new to Castithan ways, yes?" Christie nodded and the maid gestured to her bowing charges. "We are, Yuke Liro, my Lady. You have married into the Shanje Liro...we are not worthy of your touch, it is forbidden." The maid explained cooly. Chrisite made a face as the threw the blankets aside, rising from the bed. "Well, I'm...sorry?" Christie apologized, confused at how to feel. Should she feel awkward for offending them? Or stupid for not knowing the proper traditions of her new household?

As Christie quickly stretched, the watched in awe as the maids slid on long white gloves, akin to formal attire worn by human women. She didn't ask, she assumed this had something to do with the "no touching" rule. As the other two maids adjusted their gloves, the head maid, who Christie later remembered was named Elia, took her gently by the hand, leading her down from the white marble platform where the bed rested. She then gestured to the two other maids in Castithan, "Bring me the clothes Lady Stahma has selected." She translated internally. "Oh, thank you, but there's no need! Really! I've brought plenty of clothes with me." Christie smiled. Elia shook her head. "No, Mistress, the Lady Stahma was very specific." She responded crypitcally. Suddenly, Christie felt a tugging at her loose night shirt and jerked forward. "What are you doing?" She piped. "You are making this rather difficult, my Lady." Elia smiled, unceremoniously yanking the baggy tee shirt up over Christie's head. "Wah! Why would you!?..." Chrisite exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her breasts. Standing there in front of three unfamiliar women in nothing but her underwear was mortifying. The only woman who had ever helped her dress was Stahma before the wedding, and even mustering up to _that_ took all the courage she could muster! Another maid moved Christie's arms and pinned them to her sides [with much struggle] and the third, along with Elia slid a long white frock down over her head. The bodice was adorned with heavy designs stitched in from silver beads and pearls, tapering down to a thin waist and a long, flowing base. "How lovely! OH!" Christie admired briefly, before enduring the constricting sensation of the laces in the back being strung and tied as tight as they'd go. Elia then grabbed a long tape measure and began wrapping and pulling it roughly over every inch of Christie's form. "Ugh! That's enough!" Chrisite protested, finally writhing free from her captors. "Mistress!" Elia called out, to no avail.

Chrisite raced down the stairs as fast as the long dress would let her, tripping several times on the way down the long spiral stairway. In the dining room she harkened to the sounds of dishes clanging and muttered conversation. By the sudden sound of the silence, she guessed they heard her coming. "Well, look who's up!" Stahma said cheerfully, taking a delicate sip of tea. Datak nodded once in response. "What, was _that?!"_ Chrisite blushed heavily, gesturing to the stairs. "What?" Stahma chuckled. "You must be specific, dear." She smirked. Chrisite panted, her cinched waist not allowing her much room to move, or breathe. "That, that barrage of, of _women_ upstairs!" Chrisite cried. Stahma smiled sweetly and dismissed her distress. "Oh, don't worry, the dressing ceremony won't _always_ be so invasive." Stahma consoled. Christie gaped. "ALWAYS? You mean that nonsense happens _every day_?!" Datak shook his head, Stahma took note and intervened before any cruel words could escape her husband's mouth. "It is hard work to be a Castithan wife, darling! And, as I said, from now on, the ritual will be much more structured and less intrusive. I had Elia take your measurements today so we can send them off to the local tailor. We need to have all seventy two of your dresses adjusted." Stahma finished, Christie nearly collapsed into her seat at the long white table. "Seventy two dresses?" She stated flatly. She was born into a priveleged family, but Christie doubted she'd ever even _owned_ seventy two articles of clothing at one given time! Stahma laughed, finding her endless expressions and outbursts amusing. "Why of course! Fifty two, one for each week of the year, and twenty for the seventeen major Castithan holidays and formal town assemblies. As well as three other _very_ elegant ensembles for only the grandest occasions." She specified, although Christie was at a loss as far as imagining exactly what "formal assemblies" ever took place in Defiance.

"The one you're wearing is one of my personal favorites, very flattering on you." Her mother in law commented, gesturing at her with a spoon. "Although...it looks as though no one so much as touched that hair of yours." Christie blushed, stroking her wild bedhead. "Oh, well, I sort of, you know, ran out." She chuckled nervously. Stahma scooted out of her seat and strode over to Christie, extending a hand. "Come now, Alak will be home in an hour for family brunch. A good Castithan husband deserves to come home to a beautiful wife, wouldn't you agree, Datak?" Stahma smirked, honey lacing her obvious criticism. Datak nodded through a mouthful of food. "Indeed." He garbled. With that, Stahma led Christie back to her room, which had been completely transformed in those few minutes she'd spent panicking downstairs. Their bed was immaculately made, not a wrinkle or crease in the white velvet comforter. And her ourfit for tomorrow was already set up on the dress form by the wardrobe. "Come, sit down." Stahma interrupted Christie's admiring of the area and patted the vanity stool. Her daughter in law scrunched up her skirts and plopped down on the seat in a less than delicate fashion, but Stahma didn't say anything. She went for a large brush sitting on the white marble surface and began mercilessly carding it through her thick dark hair. Earning more amusing expressions and discontented noises from Christie.

"Christie, do you know what you've gotten yourself into?" Stahma inquired cooly, the cryptic comment caused the girl to tense up in her seat. "Marrying Alak, I mean." She finished. Christie assumed she'd broken up the sentence to make her nervous. She felt on most days she got along well with Stahma, but the feeling that she was not one to be trifiled with never went away. "You see, human marriages, and Castithan marriages are _vastly_ different. In the unions of our people, it is the duty of the husband and his family to provide, and it is the duty of the wife, to serve him." She began, Christie fumed internally, but settled for a simple, "Yes, I understand." Living with three men her whole life left her aware of, but reluctant to accept the patriarchy. Stahma finished flattening out Christie's hair relatively quickly, and began threading little silver beads and white ribbon into tiny braids she deftly wove across her scalp. "For us, the ladies of the Shanje Liro, we are expected to be...well...think of us as dolls." Christie made a face. "A proper Castithan wife is tied to the home. When her husband indulges in her, it is not her duty to attempt to match his blessings, but to be productive and useful with them. In other words, a Castithan man's wife is a doll for him to showcase his wealth and influence in society. Whenever people see you and Alak in public, you are _always_ to look your very best. That is your purpose." Stahma dictated very clearly. Internally, Christie, like any young girl, relished in the idea of being lavished and dressed in expensive clothes, living in a big, fancy house, but the respectable human in her dictated that she make herself useful the old fashioned way. As her husband's working equal. Stahma continued.

"Datak and I have also been talking. There's so much you could stand to learn about Castithan life. If Alak allows it, we think you ought to begin your education. You'll need to learn the finer things about our heritage. Refining your spoken language skills, penmanship, traditional dance, stitchery, child rearing, the proper way to set a table..." Christie nodded, taking note of everything being thrown her way. _"The proper way to set a table? Weren't you the one who complimented my spread last time we cooked?" _Christie thought to herself, when suddenly, a thought on the previous topic came to mind.

"Hang on a sec...what about you and Datak? You once told me that you were the one who came from money. If it's your money, then how can he own you that way?" Christie asked, Stahma frowned and stared at the pair in the mirror, for once out of things to say. "Well, you see that's_–––_" A knock on the doors cut her off, and not a moment too soon, she thought. Alak pushed a door open and peered in. "Good morning, _wife_! How's it coming?" He asked, Stahma gently set the brush down and went to greet him. "Alak, my darling!" She twinkled, pressing her lips to his forehead. "Look. Isn't she a vision?" Stahma turned him to face Christie, who waved casually at him from the vanity table. She wanted to greet him, but really she was having trouble getting up, she would loosen the corset strings when Stahma left the room. Alak beamed, walking over to give her a good morning kiss. "Perhaps you'll let us redo _your_ wardrobe next?" She asked jokingly, although she did internally detest her son's affinity with street clothes. Alak shook his head and smiled. "Well, we'll be having brunch in a little while, why don't you spend some time with your wife?" His mother suggested, quietly closing the doors behind her.

"Alak, help me up?" Christie whispered, reaching out for him, he chuckled. "Corseted already?" He pulled his wife up from the seat and into his arms. "So, how are you liking Castithan life? Gettin' to ya yet?" He asked. Christie sighed, tugging at the strings snaking down the back of her gown. "It's _exhausting!_ And...from what Stahma says, I may not be cut out for it." She lamented. Alak shook his head. "Of course you are! Trust me, everything'll be fine." He smiled, running a hand down her laced back. The dressing ceremony had taken quite some time, but enduring it once more was worth some precious time spent as husband and wife. Alak locked the door behind them and playfully tossed Christie onto the immaculately pressed comforter. Outside the door, Stahma listened to the muffled sounds of their laughter and the fast, high-pitched yank of zippers. Quietly, she made her way back down to the table, Christie's question still alive in her head. _"Hmm. I may have to watch out for this one after all." _She thought to herself as she sauntered away, a smile curling over her plump lips. After all, she loved a good challenge.

(✿◠‿◠) Second chapter down! Hope you enjoyed this one! I got quite a bit of faves and follows from the first chapter, glad you guys liked it! I encourage everyone to leave reviews, feedback is always helpful!

_NEXT TIME_

Alak longs to make a good impression on his new father inlaw, and decides to show him that he is capable of independence and caring for his new wife. But will the kind gesture turn into more of a disaster?


	3. 3 - Fatherhood

Okay so originally, I was going to do a Rafe and Alak chapter, but I decided to switch up the order a bit since I had a suddent burst of inspiration to write this one. This will likely be the last time I adjust the chapter order, but I felt more compelled to write this one first, it was really just a cute, spur of the moment idea that came to mind. :) We all know how Rafe and Datak feel about each other and their families, but one thing that they both find common ground with, is their love for their children. Lots of awkward fluff on the horizon, guys! (◡‿◡✿)

A PROPER CASTITHAN MARRIAGE

_Chapter 3 –––– Fatherhood (R & D)_

The acrid scents of cheap perfume and heavy booze collided and hung heavily in the evening air. The various residents of Defiance, mainly the men, were just ending thier long working days, and per the norm, the infamous Need-Want was bustling with activity.

Inside the extravagent bar, a group of burly miners, pressed and showered [according to Kenya's latest requirements] strode in, in a storm of thunderous chatter. Among the men, was none other than the boss himself, Rafe McCawley. Rafe was not one among the many who frequented the establishment, but on the few occasions when the desire for a stiff drink overpowered him, it was the _only _place he'd frequent outside of home. "You boys go find us some seats, I've gotta take care of something." Rafe suggested, parting from his group. By "something" he meant a strong pre-drink shot; just a tuck of whiskey to start the night off. He swerved his way through the masses of fellow workers, townspeople glad of his presence, and employed ladies hoping for a quick buck, until he spotted an empty seat at the bar. As more people parted for him, he noticed a hunched over man with shoulder length white hair sitting next to the last open seat. "Eh, Christ." Rafe mused to himself, contemplating whether or not being seated next to one of 'those' shifty Castithans was worth the drink. The internal struggle was over quickly. With a deep sigh, he slid the stool out from under the bar and seated himself, Kenya, tending the bar that night, immediately took notice of his presence. "Hey! We hardly see you around here. What can I get ya?" She asked with a coy smile. Rafe nodded, "Shot of whiskey." He grumbled, Kenya nodded and filled the glass to the brim. He downed it in one fell swoop, taking in the strong, musky flavor.

"Excuse me, I believe I asked for another." An uncomfortably familiar voice piped in...from the seat next to him. Kenya had long since strode off, so another bartender, equally annoyed by his presence refilled his drink. "Here." She scoffed before turning back to other guests with a fresh smile. Rafe was almost afraid to glance in the direction of the voice, but figured he'd eventually have to face that way when leaving anyhow. And even if it _was_ him, not as if he even half expected him to pull him aside for a friendly chat. However, the slouching Castithan man was the first one to notice Rafe. "McCawley." Datak Tarr said cooly, downing a sip of his drink. A smug scowl curling across his pallid lips. _"Damn it, can't get away from him these days. One night a week to myself is all I ask!" _Rafe fumed internally, but settled for an equally enthusiastic greeting instead. "Tarr." Datak gently pushed his empty glass aside and turned to face him again. "I wasn't aware you went skulking around in places like this. The _upstanding _Rafe McCawley seeking booze and broads after hours, hmm?" Datak plucked sarcastically, Rafe rolled his eyes, unwilling to back down from Datak's pushes. "No, I'm _not_ that sort. Friday nights, if you have to know, is the one night a week the boys and I get together and unwind." Rafe flatly replied, staring into his empty shot glass, perhaps thinking he'd need another by the time this conversation was over. "On that note Tarr, why are _you_ here?" Rafe inquired, earning the same _'oh great, he wants to talk' _expression from him. "Friday night in the Tarr home is a day of rest for us as well. To take a..._sabbatical_ from one another's constant presence." And by 'one another' he meant his new daughter inlaw. Rafe nodded, the odd pair sitting silently among the bustling crowd. The boisterous laugher and curses and music and casual conversation drowning them out effortlessly, losing them among the jovial atmosphere.

Datak bringing up _his_ family made Rafe wonder, although he'd never admit that anything from the mouth of that man would presume to make him think of anything worthwhile; how was Christie? She called home every now and again, and as he hated to admit it, there were days he just couldn't bear to pick up. Quentin would chastise him for it, and Rafe would guilt himself into calling her back some days later, and the cycle went on like that for weeks. He loved her, she was his daughter. He would always love her. But he believed deep down, that he had tried to convince himself too early and too quickly to accept Christie's marriage to Alak. It made her happy, and that was what really mattered, but the reality was, and he would never tell her this, but walking her down the aisle that day, _delivering her_ into the arms of a Tarr, was the most heart wrenching thing he'd ever been pursuaded to endure. Finally he was forced to ask. "Christie is doing well by the way." Datak smirked, sensing the incoming question before Rafe even had the chance to ask. "Her Castithan is improving, and under my Stahma's guidance, she is becoming _quite_ the notable housewife." Datak prided, although Rafe got the sense that he might've been being sarcastic. He nodded. "She's a tough girl, always has been. Very headstrong, knows what she wants. So long as that boy of yours is treating her right..." Rafe said rather brusquely. "_Alak_, is doing fine as well." Datak defended. The tension between the two mounted, and those around them feared it would soon come to a head, but the reluctant pair cooled off, ignoring one another for several minutes. But for whatever reason, neither chose to leave, as if both sensing something...unfinished.

From behind them, the loud sound of a group of haughty teenagers laughing and gossiping could be heard sweeping through the room. Datak glanced back, only to find Alak's old gang seated at a table mere paces behind them. "Shtako." He muttered, Rafe sensed Datak's anger and glowered at the rebellious youths. "Friends of your kid?" Rafe asked. "Like hell." Datak bit back, lowering his head. "You know, you start out wanting something specific for your children, and then they throw it all right back in your face in exchange for something...different." Datak stated, earning a rather puzzled look from Rafe, who had a vague idea what Datak was hinting at. _"Sorry my daughter's not a haint."_ He spat under his breath. Datak shot back, glaring daggars at Rafe, but elected [for once] not to further the insults into an all out brawl. "When I first came to this planet, Stahma and I had just married. We were young, and an odd couple as well. A Shanje and a Yuke Liro, married." Datak began, smirking. "I married well, 'worked' and scraped all my life to get to where I am today...gave my son whatever he wanted, without question...gave him an easy, comfortable life as far away from my line of 'work' as possible...I hoped for a long time he'd marry another Castithan, or at least let us arrange something lucrative for him, but..." Datak shrugged, drawing in a deep breath. Rafe didn't understand why his adversary was sitting here, bearing his soul like this, but he couldn't say a word against him, because everything he felt for Alak, he'd been feeling for his daughter.

"When my wife passed, I was left with three kids on my hands. One just born. Nothing in this world is ever easy, especially for a working-class man." Datak scoffed, but Rafe elected to ignore the advance. "At the time, the mines were a young project, just getting off...I wanted everything the world had to offer, for all my kids, but...Luke's gone, Quentin's not found himself yet, and Christie's married at sixteen." He lamented roughly. "You're lucky," Rafe said. "At the very least, Alak respects your views." Datak looked shocked! "If my son respected my views, he wouldn't be married to a _human."_ He retaliated. "Do none of your children challenge you?" Datak pushed. Rafe nodded. "Obviously." He said flatly, in reference to Christie. "So, what is it like? I mean, for Castithans? Most Castis I see only have one or two children, why is that?" Rafe asked. "Depends on the Liro. Most lower caste families have more children, to divide the work, and therefore support coming into the household. And those of use of _superior _social standing don't need many children. Just one or two to continue the family line." At the very least, his answer was direct, although Rafe found a moment of laughter at the notion of Datak's "superior" social standing. Datak fought a smile. "You know, when Alak was born, I felt...overcome with pride and joy. Moreso than from anything else I've experienced in this miserable place." He turned to Rafe quizzically. "For a Castithan family, there's no greater joy than the arrival of children. Tell me. Does...does the feeling lessen over time for humans?" He puzzled. "What?" Rafe furrowed a brow. "Tell me, you've got a sizeable brood, do those feelings diminish over time, until you're just tired of the occurance?" Datak asked, Rafe was nearly taken aback by the genuinely "alien" level of understanding, or lackthereof. "Lessen? Not in the slightest, in fact it gets stronger." Datak nodded. "Interesting. I've often wondered what it would be like to have had more children. Sometimes I feel we've carried Alak too delicately because he's our only child." Datak admitted, though he secretly enjoyed bestowing the many indulgences on his wife and son. "Are Castithans close, family wise?" Rafe inquired, Datak nodded and smiled. "Alak and Stahma. They are the pearls of my world, McCawley." He delighted. "And humans?" "Even closer, I gather." Rafe mused, Datak smirked, Castithans took family baths, he doubted the humans were closer than _that!_ But he'd just let that be his secret one-up.

"At the end of the day, I suppose I have to admit that Christie married...well." Rafe struggled to get that out, and much to Datak's surprise, it seemed to be a legitimate compliment. "Indeed she has. And she makes my Alak happy." Datak added. Rafe turned to him, looking quite stern. "Tarr." His voice suddenly regained its gruff seriousness. "We do this for the sake of our kids, but between us? As soon as we walk outta here, nothing's changed." He decided, Datak chuckled arrogantly. "I wouldn't have expected anything less." By now, hours had passed, and the controlled chaod of the Need-Want had died down to only a few patrons. The pair stood up from the bar, and walked towards the door. "Tell Christie I want her to call me." Rafe ordered. "Call her yourself!" Datak chided, strolling off to the Hollows. _"Insufferable oaf." _He mused internally. Rafe gritted his teeth and stomped off down the old dirt path. _"Arrogant haint." _He cursed. Regardless, perhaps for once, Datak was right. He resolved to have a long conversation with his daughter in the morning.

Datak might be an insufferable douche sometimes [most of the time] but one thing I noticed is that family is very important to him, and not just because Castithans value it. When he executes Elah Bandik, he gives him one last night to spend with his wife and children, without pause for thought, he loves the way his wife complements him with their similarities, and he is fiercely protective of Alak. Even though he and Rafe are equally tough guys, I think that actually? Datak is a tad more loving and forgiving where Alak is concerned, whereas Rafe is a very strong and strong-willed person. But, I just thought it would be cool to have them react and not kill each other, so, please review, feedback is helpful! I'll be back with what was supposed to be the actual chapter 3 later!

(✿ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ


	4. 4 - Like You

How 'bout that [very] white wedding on Monday?! 3

Sorry about the little hiatus! Lots of stuff going on away from my writing. But holy crap this is getting a lot of follows! ◉ ‿ ◉ Thanks a lot, guys! 3 I wish we could step up the review count, though! I love feedback and critique, and I also take suggestions, sooo it really does help me when you review so I know exactly what everyone wants to see/read here. I've taken a few from several Tumblr users that I think you'll enjoy in a bit, but this here was just a cute and much needed Datak and Christie interaction story. I REALLY hope we get to see Christie assimilating to Castithan life in season 2, and although Datak is a jerk, I can't help but think how _alike _he and Christie's circumstances really are! After marrying Stahma, Datak was expected to leave everything he was raised through behind and essentially become a member of his wife's Liro, and now Christie must do the same in regards to leaving her human ways behind and assuming a new identity as a Castithan wife. PHEW! Sorry for the ramble, enjoy the read!  
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A PROPER CASTITHAN MARRIAGE

_Chapter 4 –––– Like You (D & C)_

"Does that please you, Mistress?" The attendant, Elia asked with her stern, dutiful tone. Christie gazed in the mirror with a smile at the work she had done with her hair. Christie from the start expressed her distaste for the elegant yet painfully achieved Castithan hairstyles worn by the Liro of her inlaws. Sitting there for hours on end while various handmaids pinned and yanked at her locks, adding weight to her head with each strand of beads or silk flower they sewed in with deft hands. Stahma was, as usual, disappointed at her daughter inlaw's protests, but settled for having her attendants let her off with simpler, easier managed styles. Today, Christie's long dark hair was worn partially down, while the rest was pulled into a neatly crafted bun at the crown of her head, with a series of small braids, with white ribbons woven in, snaked from the sides of her head back into the bun, which was adorned with a large silk gardenia blossom and several small ribbons that cascaded down her back in long stands. "Yes! Thank you." She smiled, Elia nodded once and exited the room. Christie lifted her layered white skirts and pushed herself up from the plush vanity seat. While she was able to persuade Stahma to ease up on the uncomfortable hairstyles, there was absolutely no getting around the four sterile wardrobes full of stiffly corseted gowns, layered robes, and itchy tulle: All white, of course. But she had gotten the hang of walking without tripping on her skirts, or having to get an attendant to help her up because of her cinched waistline. Really, she'd just been secretly loosening them every day after the dressing ceremony, but that would just be her little secret.

She glided over to the windows and stared out at the bustling Hollows below. Alak had only departed two hours ago to meet up with an unknowing Rafe, although for his worrying wife, it may as well have been two days. The families may have been on _civil _terms with one another since the wedding, but internally she knew that her father's opinions of Datak, and therefore, his household would never change. The first time she visited home after the wedding, wearing one of the seventy two elegant Castithan gowns that Stahma had very insistently commissioned for her, Rafe expressed extreme displeasure for her newfound Castithan graces. _"How much they pay for something like this? And you're not even grown yet...They'll just have to buy new clothes in a year. Pointless." _He huffed. Of course, Rafe loved Christie, and was glad that she was happily married, but if it was Tarr-related, there was always room for criticism in his eyes. However, to his credit, he'd come miles from where he was with Alak, and that was what really mattered to her. Having nearly come to blows with him in the Need-Want some months ago, to comforting him during the Irath Flu outbreak, when his beloved fiance was near death. _"He'll be fine." _She told herself, shutting the white tulle drapes before heading downstairs.

It was morning, though not very early, so Christie was surprised upon entering the dining room, usually bustling with activity and conversation at this hour, to find it empty. It was likely that Datak was "working," and Stahma was out running errands. But then again, she had been, oddly enough, patronizing the Need-Want quite a lot lately. Perhaps she was there. On the table, there lay Stahma's sewing box and a note. _"Something to keep you occupied, keep practicing!"_ Christie sat down and opened the box, revealing Stahma's knitting tips and several balls of colored yarn. She had seen her mother inlaw do this countless times. She placed the tips on and began attempting to weave a little dreamcatcher the way Stahma had [tried] to show her, but to no avail. The cumbersome weaving tips and fast hand movements were too much and wasted no time turning a would-be dreamcatcher into a series of matted knots. "Shtako." She mused to herself, practically slamming the mess down onto the sleekly polished glass table. Immediately one of the attendants standing off to the side of the room swept in and removed it from the table. "Thank you." Christie said. She always liked taking care of her home-bound errands and duties at the table, it faced the front foyer so she was able to greet whoever popped in first. Although some days that was a real hit or miss, when Datak wandered in instead of her eager husband. Unfortunately for her, today was one of those days.

Whistling could be heard out by the front door, and a smile spread across Christie's face. The clock read nine thirty, Alak wasn't working Raider Radio today, and she figured his talk with Rafe wouldn't last much longer. He must be home! She got up from the table and walked to the foyer door, listening as the cheerful tune grew closer. As the stark white door slid open, Datak sauntered in, unbuttoning his gray-blue overcoat. As their stares met, the reaction was shared. Datak's jovial whistling stopped instantly, and Christie's smile faded into a serious glower. "Oh...Datak. Good morning!" Christie greeted, striding quickly back up to the table, trying to sound glad of his arrival. "I gather you were expecting someone _else,_ Christie?" He accused dryly, draping his coat on the hanger. "I was just waiting for Alak." She simpered awkwardly, putting the knitting tools back into Stahma's box. Datak nodded, looking around the silent home. "Where is Stahma?" He inquired. "I'm not sure, she just left a note for me to practice knitting again." She handed Datak the note, which he barely bothered to skim over, and grumbled with a nod before crumpling it into his pants pocket.

Unsure of how to break the silence, and get as well into her austere father inlaw's good graces as possible, Christie ran through the innumerable Castithan lady-lessons Stahma had drilled into her since the wedding. "Can I fix you anything? Get you something to drink?" She offered obediently. Datak made a face, recounting the taste of her river otter dish some months ago. "I'd rather you didn't." He mused. Christie masked her faultering confidence and continued on with her offers. "Well...Stahma wanted me to ask what you'd like for dinner tonight." She stated, following him through the living room as he flopped down into one of the plush white armchairs. "I shall discuss that with _Stahma_ when she returns." Another push shot down. "Well..." "Have you finished the cleaning?" Datak interrupted. Christie frowned. When she'd married into the Tarr family, she'd seen their many servants and assumed she's have a mostly easy go. The McCawleys had their one Liberata cook and housemaid, but the Tarrs had several. Regardless, as Stahma instructed, it was the duty of a Castithan wife, no matter her Liro or privelege, to work alongside the help her husband had "so graciously" provided her with. "_And_ the laundry? _And_ your lessons?" Datak piled things on, hoping there was something the eager girl hadn't yet accomplished. "The laundry's drying, Elia and Nohne are finishing the last of the cleaning, and the only lesson Stahma gave me was the knitting." She replied, almost inaudibly as she did a mental recheck of the morning's events. Datak grumbled again. "Fine. Get me a drink, then. You should know by now what I like." He said in a very exacting tone. Christie forced a smile. She was happy to be in Alak's family, and eager to learn about their culture, but being ordered about by her inlaws was grating on her patience.

In the large kitchen, Christie opened the sleek glass doors of the beverage cooler, stocked to the brim with the finest wines and liquors. She reached for the open bottle of bright aqua fluid, some elegant Castithan liquor with an illegible name, and poured Datak precisely a half tumbler of it with a pair of ice cubes. She reached into the glassware pantry and pulled down a small silver platter, and placed the tumbler atop it before carrying it back to the sitting room. "It's always two ice cubes you take with this, right Data..." As Christie crossed the threshold to the sitting room, she found it empty. By now she was half temped to take a seat and down the hardy drink herself! Instead, she took a deep breath, entered the room, and placed the platter in the center of the glass coffee table by Datak's chair, and left.

Several hours passed, and Stahma came sweeping in through the front door in a swathe of white fabric, one servant in tow, carrying her heavy load of purchases. Walking past the sitting room, she immediately took notice of the bright blue inside the glass, sticking out noticeably among the whitewashed room. "Christie?" Stahma called sweetly, there was silence. She harkened to the sound of footsteps plodding down towards her, glancing up at the spiraled staircase, she saw a very tired looking Datak rounding the corner in her direction. "I believe she's gone out." He drawled, greeting his wife with a kiss. Stahma knelt down to gracefully pick up the untouched drink as Datak brushed past her. She stared down into the watered down blue fluid, and said with a smirk, "No wonder you're so tense today, darling, you haven't had you afternoon drink." "It's not nearly as..._enticing _as when _you_ bring it to me." Datak prodded childishly. Stahma nodded, placing the drink and platter onto the counter for the servants to fuss with later. "This is all still very new for Christie. Soon she will be a notable Casti housewife, worthy of Alak's companionship." Stahma promised soothingly, guiding the rigid Datak into another loving embrace.

"He hates me." Christie declared, thumbing through Alak's record covers. "He doesn't _hate_ you, my dad, he's just...he..." "Hates me." Christie interjected flatly as Alak attempted to formulate an excuse. "You know how he can be. Sometimes I can't stand the way he is..." Alak admitted. "Just wait 'till we have our own place. I promise, I won't make you knit or get drinks for me." He joked, wrapping an arm around his wife. The two rocked gently back and forth in one another's arms as a Johnny Cash song echoed through the little radio studio in the Arch.

Their peace was brief, however, when the twinkle of Alak's ringtone played, muffled by his pants' pocket. Christie smiled and smoothed her long hair back, givign her husband some space. "Yeah?" Alak answered drolly. "Oh, hey mom..." As he greeted the caller, Christie exhaled indignantly and excused herself, peeking out at the evening sky from one of the makeshift windows [really, holes] in the Arch's sturdy walls. "Yeah, we love you too, bye..." As the call finished, Alak grabbed his backpack and stuffed his headphones and what remained of his bagged lunch inside. "What's up?" Christie asked cautiously. "Nothing babe, mom just says dinner'll be ready soon." Christie nodded, watching Alak close up shop from a chair by the door. He seized the microphone and tipped the needle away from the record as the song playing came to an end. "Well Defiance, so ends another amazing day! We'll be back tomorrow morning, as always with some awesome tunes, this is Alak Tarr with Raider Radio, signing out!" He announced enthusiastically, flipping the numerous "off" switches on the equipment, causing the already dimly lit area to go nearly pitch black. Luckily, there was just enough daylight left to guide them through the Hollows safely.

Christie walked steadily, hooked firmly into the warm crook of Alak's arm, they smiled as they kicked up dust and rocks on the beaten dirt streets of the town. The numerous shops in the Hollows, and elsewhere in Defiance, had taken notice of the dark, starry sky that enveloped what little light there was left outside, and had begun shutting down their various kiosks and open-door shops for the night. The only building aside from Yewell's clinic whose lights still blared brightly with invitation was the Need-Want, flooding the air with loud music and boisterous laughter. Alak didn't say anything, for fear of having to bring up the stripper incident at his bachelor party there, but his stomach couldn't help but turn at the memory of pulling Hunter Bell's corpse from the wall that very night. Had Kopak not edged him on that night, such a mystery never would've been solved! His grim thoughts were quickly dashed when the warm sensation of Christie's hand pressing itself into his overcame him. "I love you." She simpered, Alak leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I love you too, wife." He responded in his elegant Castithan words.

As the massive white house, aglow with its numerous lights, came into view on the horizon, Alak felt Christie's gentle hold on his hand slowly turn into a hard squeeze. He wanted to tell her that it was alright, and that everything would be okay, but he knew that the things that his parents, namely his father did, were out of his control. "Just don't let him get you down, okay?" Alak whispered. Christie laughed. "What's funny?" Alak asked. "It's actually not Datak I'm worried about, now. It's Stahma!" She laughed again, this time more out of nerves that humor. Alak glared on, confused. Christie released his hand and stepped aside, holding out her arms. It was only then that Alak noticed she was wearing her "old" clothing; an old pair of comfortably worn jeans and a pink long sleeved shirt, paired with faded red sneakers, dusty from the roads. All of this, contrasting with the elegant silk flowers and ribbons sewn into her hairdo.

They laughed together, running towards the house. As they plodded up the stairs, the doors swung open, revealing Datak, frowning, per-the-norm, and Stahma, looking cheerful as ever. "Christie!" Stahma greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, and Alak with the same. She didn't say anything, but Christie immediately noticed Stahma's pale eyes scanning her form up and down, pondering the absence of a grand Castithan dress to match the time consuming coiffure. "Shall we have dinner?" She urged politely, following a silent Datak into the dining room.

As always, the table was set immaculately, and the spread was fine and filling. As the servants removed used dishes from the table, the odd family sat together, discussing the day, per Christie's request; it being a normal and comforting ritual for many human families to engage in. Finally, Stahma asked the unwanted question. "Christie, I see you've, _changed._" She scrutinized in a sugary tone. Christie smirked, taken off guard by the interjection. "Oh! Yeah, I went to the Arch with Alak today...and I..." "She called before she left." Alak interrupted, earning an inquisitive glance from his father. "Indeed? May I ask what for?" Stahma prodded. "Um, she called to see what she should wear to come up. The dresses you bought her were so pretty and expensive...she didn't wanna ruin them." Alak lied, Christie blushed and took a sip from her glass. "How very responsible of you." Datak added with seeming sincerity. Stahma smiled at him approvingly from across the table. "If indeed a word of that shtako was true." He finished under his breath, turning Stahma's rewarding smile into a chastising frown. "Datak." She muttered, Christie ignored it, despite having heard every word. She couldn't just run out now whenever something made her angry or upset. Her father's door was always open, but this was her home, and Alak had warned her that she'd have to be strong to endure the Tarrs! The meal concluded without any further conversation.

Deep into the night, Christie and Alak had already headed off to bed, and Datak and Stahma were enjoying an evening soak together. "How could this have happened?" Datak shook his head. "As always, I've allowed my will with Alak to be too easily comprimised." Stahma sighed and placed her hands on his face with mock sympathy, kissing his forehead. "You have decided well. You have only done what every parent wishes to do for their beloved children. Remember, his happiness is the only thing we care about, right now." She said soothingly. Datak nodded. "Regardless. To show up to dinner dressed in that slovenly way? And to push my own son to lie to my face? The girl is just as insufferable as her good-for-nothing father...if not more!" Datak punched the water angrily, scooting away from Stahma's advances. For a moment she found herself at a loss, this was exaclty how he began behaving shortly before frequenting the Need-Want as quite the regular. And with the upcoming elections, he had every reason to require some sort of stress reliever. "You know..." She whispered, deep in thought. "I think that you and Christie need some time alone. All this time she has wanted nothing more than to be close to us, for Alak's sake. I dare say that I have been doing my part, _perfectly,_ as difficult as it may be to swallow my words for her." Datak couldn't believe what she was saying! "Wonderful." He shrugged. "First Alak and now you, when did this family become so sympathetic to those human beasts?" Stahma floated back behind him and began rubbing his shoulders. "Dearest, all I ask is that you spend a single afternoon in her company. If not for me...do it for Alak, he loves his father, and he loves his wife. It would please him so..." She pushed subtly. "And when you think on it more, Datak, you and Christie are very much alike." Datak pulled away. "You compare _me_ to a _human?!"_ He thundered, stomping out of the tub, leaving Stahma completely calm. "Just think on it, my love." She finished coolly.

Early the next morning, Alak was up bright and early to begin broadcasting for the town, Christie in tow. After last night's awkward experience, both of them felt it best for her to leave Datak alone for a day. Little did they know, the devious pair had other plans. "You have everything?" The seasoned expert of the duo asked as his wife nodded, jostling her heavily loaded backback in one hand, ready for a day out. Alak nodded. Just as the two were about to exit the house, Datak rounded the corner. "Alak, you have a good day, and keep out of trouble. Christie..." As Datak uttered her name, for what felt like the first time, the pair froze. "You will stay behind." Christie whipped around to Alak, desperately looking for support. "But dad, how co-" "Alak, do as you're told, _for once." _ Datak interrupted coolly, holding the doors open for him. "O-okay. Bye Christie, I love you! I'll call you!" He exclaimed feverishly as Datak ushered him out, practically slamming the doors shut, leaving the odd couple in silence. Datak glanced down at Christie's elegant outfit and high heeled shoes. "Put on something suitable to wear outside, I know you have plenty of those awful street clothes of yours...And be quick about it!" Datak ordered, turning his back to her.

Upstairs, Christie was an emotional wreck, hands shaking as she thumbed through the stuffed box under the bed, secretly filled to the brim with her favorite "Earth clothing." What could he possibly want to take her _outside _for? It seemed like such an odd little nothing to fret over, and yet she couldn't help it. She knew what her father inlaw's track record entailed, not to mention he was always angry and unpredictable when so. Quickly, she slid into a comfy pair of jeans and a baggy tee shirt. "I'm ready!" She called down the stairs, practically running into Datak on the way down; he was already miffed about something, she didn't want to edge it on by keeping him waiting. "Come with me." He ordered, offering the crook of his arm, which she nervously took. And he led her out the back door and into the gardens.

The pair sauntered in awkward silence, the only sounds permeating the air were the distant shouts of enterprising merchants, bargain-hunting customers and numerous passerbys up in the Hollows. Internally, Datak fumed about his current situation, and reviewed his discussion with Stahma from the previous night, hoping for some kind of guidance. _"Just spend some time with her. Make her feel as though you want to know her...you are not so different." _

"Christie." He began eagerly, she turned to face him nervously. "Yes?" "Have I ever told you about my life on Casti? How Stahma and I came to Earth?" He asked, she shook her head. "No...well...you never really talk to me." She stated honestly, Datak rolled his eyes. "I'm sure my Stahma has made you aware of _her_ high standing...But I was not born so fortunate. I was born into the lowest Liro, and Stahma, the highest. Back home, it would have been unheard of for an untouchable like myself to so much as speak to Stahma. A marriage between us would have resulted in her family having me put to death, certainly..." He began, Christie stared ahead at the flowery path, wide eyed. "Wow." She breathed. "Indeed. I was born one of eight children, my mother was a housewife of course, and my father was the main attendant to one of the High Skabolo Priests of the Daribo Temple. It sounds a lot more grandiose than it was. A "main attendant" was merely a beefed up way to say, "servant." So that didn't bring us much money. I never went to school, my mother taught us all to readand write to the best of her abilities, but I was twelve when my father decided I had to begin bringing in a paycheck like my older siblings, so my education never came far until my arrival here." Datak admitted. "That hardly seems fair..." Christie said directly. "No, it wasn't. But one must understand, that the lower Liros _never_ move up. The purpose of having as many children as possible is to preserve the family's rung on the social ladder. On Casti, there was nowhere to go but down." He paused grimly. From inside, Stahma had woken up and stood watching over them from the windows, smiling sweetly as she played with the wafty, sheer white curtains. Perhaps this little experiment would keep them distracted long enough for her to slip off to the Need-Want for some one-on-one time with Kenya.

Back outside, Christie had taken charge of the conversation. She pulled Datak aside and sat them down on a nearby bench beneath what looked like a heavily terraformed willow tree. "I've never known struggle like that." Christie said, somewhat sadly. "Dont' try to sound sad. You ought to be grateful for that." Datak seethed. Christie glanced down nervously, thinking for something to follow that accusation with. "So...what did your siblings do?" She inquired. "I had five sisters and two brothers," He began. "Things were much more rigid on Casti, really the only profession available for women and girls was to become a maid or governess. So four of my sisters pursued jobs in those areas, and my eldest sister helped my mother manage our home. My oldest brother, the firstborn in our family, became a Temple attendant like my father, and my younger brother became an apprentice merchant." Datak responded flatly. "And what did you do?" Christie asked, taking note of Datak's elegant day suit, contrasting with his heavily calloused, scarred hands. "Whatever anyone'd give me. I was twelve years old, inexperienced...I did mostly odd-jobs. Dropping off deliveries for local shops, minding market stands, shining shoes, anything it took to bring money to the family, I'd do it. And I'd do it proudly, because I knew I had a stake in providing for my family." Datak stated seriously.

Christie nodded, her life had not been void of struggle, but at the very least, she'd never been able to recall forfeiting education or basic necessities for the sake of someone's survival. "That sounds scary." She lamented, avoiding Datak's glance. Again there was silence. "And then I met Stahma...much later. It was aboard the Arks shortfly before their departure. Stahma was sixteen, I was twenty four, that was not so uncommon on Casti, mind you. She was already in the middle of an arranged marriage to a wealthy man of the highest Liro, but I knew we were destined to be together. This planet, gave us the blessing of that opportunity." Christie smiled, recalling the story that Stahma had told her of their meeting long before she and Alak's hard-won wedding. "Earth was just like Casti for me, after the Pale Wars. I knew how to endure, how to make things happen with nothing...But Stahma," He chuckled, cracking an unintended smile. "Stahma was her highborn self all the way here. I believe our hardships were nearly impossible for her, and yet here we are. My struggles though, were just beginning. I might looks like nothing to someone like you. Living in a big house, wearing fine clothes, eating fancy meals...eating every day, even! Were all new to me. Stahma was always dutiful and patient. As dishonorable as it is for a Castithan man to admit, my wife guided me. I'd never had to behave like _them_ before she'd come into my life." "It's hard for me sometimes, too." Christie accidentally interjected, having happily found a common feeling with her father inlaw. Datak stared at her, half miffed at the interruption, and yet dying to hear what little story she was so eager to share. "And just _what_ is so difficult for the likes of you?" He rolled his head teasingly. "Assimilating." She muttered.

"It's always been hard. I love Alak...more than I've loved anyone." Christie began, austerity flowing into her usually girlish tone, this intrigued Datak. "When I was a kid, I never imagined I'd be married to a Castithan one day...not like that's bad or anything, but...in my experience, I'd always been told that humans married humans, Castis, to Castis, and so on. And even the Castithans I went to school with were more like me than..." She paused, their glances finally meeting. "...They were more like humans." She cautiously let her mouth surrender the words, fearful of the outcome, but Datak merely nodded, gesturing for her to continue. "They dressed like my brothers, and joked about the latest things, they never wore white robes, or spoke of Skabolo scrolls, or their Liros. I think it took this marriage to show me the differences." Datak let Christie's words play themselves over again in his head. For once, much of what she was saying resonated with him. "So...I get it. I'm not used to the weird writing, and the fast speaking...all those horrible words to remember. I still can't set a table the right way, and I hate it when the maids insist they have to dress me. I hate wearing all white, and being formal every day, I don't think I'm _ever_ going to share a bath with anyone else, and at this rate I'll never learn to knit or cook a good river otter...And I'm okay with that." Christie breathed, glad to have gotten all the complaints off her chest, guilt free, now that Datak was listening.

Christie pushed herself up from the bench, and stared towards the house. "You built the life you wanted for your family on compromise, right?" She asked, Datak got up and stood next to her, confused. She, and everyone else in Defiance knew of the less-than-reputable dealings he'd built this life upon, but for the sake of keeping things easy, he went with it. "In a way, yes." "That's my dream. Someday when Alak and I have our own family, I don't want them to have to say 'I'm a human,' or 'I'm a Castithan,' I don't want them to feel as though they have to be a certain way for us to love and accept them. They can find their own middleground, and I'd be okay with that. Alak, too." Christie smiled, heading back towards the house. Datak sauntered quietly behind her, he would never admit it, but part of him was impressed by Christie's candor.

As his daughter inlaw disappeared from view, into the large white mass at the end of the garden path, Datak paused, reviewing their lengthy conversation for his later discussion with Stahma, when something she'd said last night came back into mind. _"When you think on it more, Datak, you and Christie are very much alike."_ He chuckled roughly, heading back up the empty pathway. "Rafe's daugher may be a formiddable one, after all." He mused internally, keeping up his dastardly appearance. But really, he couldn't have contemplated a better way to spend the afternoon.

(✿ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟYay! I've really been looking forward to getting this one up! Despite their MANY differences, and how often they may clash internally and externally, I've always thought that Datak and Christie had a lot in common in having to assimilate to the lives of their spouses, and essentially, being forced to give up everything they were raised on. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed it! This is about 20 pages of work here! I'm heading off to Jersey with the sis for vacation, I'll post again in a week! 3


	5. Author Announcement!

A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

Hey guys! (✿◠‿◠)

Wow! Such an awesome response for Chapter 4 already?! Thanks a ton, guys! 3 as I said, I love hearing from all of you; not only does it make me feel more compelled to keep delivering, but it definitely lets me know what you all want to read, which is why I made this announcement page. [Sorry! It's not a real chapter, but it does have some good news in it!]

Well right off I'm just gonna say I've gotten some really interesting requests that I'll definitely consider pursuing, which I'll list at the end of this ramble, but there's one that I've gotten _QUITE_ a number of requests for: An Alistie pregnancy chapter. While this story hasn't quite hit 20 reviews yet, I've gotten 14 private messages so far asking for this since I first began writing for this story! And obviously, it is a hot topic in the Alistie community, especially now that Stahma mentioned grandchildren in episode 10! [Little Alisties in S2 anyone?!] But anyways, I will NOT be writing a pregnancy chapter for this particular fic.

Why you ask? Well, I feel that there is SO much that could be done with an Alistie pregnancy story, that one chapter [no matter how long, and trust me, it would be loooooong!] couldn't do it justice. However, I have been playing around with ideas for a possible story centered around the birth of the newlyweds' first child; I think it'd be neat to do 9 chapters to symbolize their 9 month journey to parenthood [assuming Castithan/half-Castithan gestation time is the same as humans' or roughly so.] But that'll probably come a little later on; I'm finishing up with college so this is really going to be a side project until I graduate!

Anyways, sorry about the fake chapter! I just wanted to put this out here before I get anymore PMs asking for a pregnancy oneshot! But, for your troubles, here is a list [in no particular order] of ideas I've had, and ideas I've been given for future oneshots to add to this story! PS a lot of you have said you like the way I handle Datak's character [thank ya!] so there will be more Datak, haha!

•A Place of Their Own: Alak and Christie moving out from under the grips of their parents and getting their first place together.

•Coffee: A sweet but awkward bonding moment between Rafe and Alak over a well-intended breakfast blunder.

•Relax: Alak and Christie's first traditional Castithan bath together as newlyweds.

•Certain Obligations: Stahma sits down with Christie, woman-to-woman to discuss the importance of starting a family, the Castithan way.

•Sunday Dinner: An unwilling Rafe [coaxed by Christie] invites the Tarrs over for a good old fashioned Earth Sunday dinner.

•Anniversary: As Alak and Christie's first wedding anniversary arrives, Alak tries to come up with the perfect present for his wife.

Well! I hope you're as excited as I am! Like I said, going on a trip in a few hours, so I'll be back on 7/10, hopefully I can start cranking these out sometime around then! Stick around, and let me know if there are any other ideas you've all been kicking around! 3


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